


i found a strength within the fire

by song_of_staying



Series: Angelica Arrives Later AU [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Mutual Pining, Power Imbalance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9622271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/song_of_staying/pseuds/song_of_staying
Summary: Six snippets from a love story.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amutemockingjay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amutemockingjay/gifts).



> Happy Valentine's Day!

Wherever Maria goes, someone is talking about the Hamiltons. Like the weather, like the rats and the sewers and the mayor, they are a constant topic of conversation.

Curiosity is her curse, along with obstinacy. She left home because she was told that she shouldn’t, and because she couldn’t stand the thought of a life spent amongst her mother’s herbs and gentle admonitions. She finally started hating Reynolds only when she realized that there was nothing new left that he would show her. That she had already seen all of his moods and all of his desires, and there was nothing better beyond them.

The Hamiltons make her curious, and she watches from her window when they stroll down her street.

The lady of the house is calm as starlight. The man of the house is messy and loud, he rhymes and rants and stops to write things down. The lady lets him write on her palm, if he runs out of space on his own. The children, if they are present, will run around, but always look back to their mother, excited and adoring like puppies.

If the children are not there, the lady will sometimes take her husband by the elbow, and kiss him, and Maria wonders whether it’s a soft, giving kiss, or a strong, demanding one.

Maria’s neighbours tell her Mrs Hamilton is away on a visit to her father. In the evening, Maria puts on her best dress, washes her hair in a lukewarm bath of peppermint and thyme. She doesn’t know yet whether she wants _him_ , but she wants to see their house, and to know whether there is compassion for her there – the rumours say that there should be.

But when she knocks on the door, it is the lady who answers.

* * *

The way Maria smiles reminds Eliza of something delightful, lingering at the edge of her memory. A forgotten dance, a game in the woods behind her house.

The smiles have become more frequent since Reynolds has left. Eliza mostly doesn’t think about him. Alexander says there is nothing more they can do. Eliza knows that that's not wholly true - even if Alexander has to keep his honour unstained, and cannot go after the man adequately, Eliza can write letters. But it can wait until she's upstate. She will consult with Angelica and with Daddy. When Reynolds is brought to court – whether for divorce or for his debts – there will be no way for him to slip away.

Maria doesn't speak about him. All their conversations are about life, and the city, and about work.

Eliza hired her without any planning at all, and she knows that Maria still thinks of it as a charitable whim. But Eliza is not whimsical. This is the second sudden decision she had made in her life.

It turned out just as well as the first one: Maria is the best secretary Eliza has ever had. Eliza should never have tried hiring a man as secretary - not one of them ever fit right. Maria easily understands the rank of importance between Eliza’s letters. She can fake Eliza’s handwriting, and is getting better at Alexander’s. She phrases things too briskly, sometimes, but Eliza loves it.

Eliza has to leave, and she wants Maria to write to her.

"If you need anything," she says, and still doesn't name Reynolds. "Alexander is here. Yell at him if you have to."

"He's not going with you?"

"He was supposed to." It feels less bitter than it did in the morning. "My sister and I are going alone with the children. Are you sure you don't want to meet her?"

"I will if you want me to," Maria says, but there is nothing Eliza will take from her in the name of gratitude. 

"Oh, maybe when we come back," Eliza says, so light, careful. "I don't think we'll be long at all."

"Good," Maria says. It's a moment of flustered helplessness, and Eliza shakes her hand. 

* * *

_... You missed the biggest storm New York has seen in five years - or ten years, or seven, it depends on who you ask. If your neighbours are anything like mine, you will hear about it when you come back. If anyone tells you the sky was on fire, don't believe them. The sky hasn't been on fire since the war. I think we miss it sometimes, or at least we miss the time when all news was about the ending of the world._

_Your husband is well, or at least, that's what he told me to tell you. He has been eating, because the baker made a point of bringing his products to the front door of your house - and he overcharged, which I suspect would bother Mr Hamilton if he had time to think about it. I have now discussed the situation with the baker, who promised to be more reasonable. I hope that I haven't overstepped. ..._  

* * *

_... The next time I come up here, I'd like for you to come with me - if even just for a day or two. There are so many stories here, but to write them down seems to dissolve them. I wish I was good enough at putting them into writing. I wish I could remember all of the ones I heard as a child._

_Of course, this is a benefit of having what Angelica calls a fashionable but unreasonable number of children: there is always one young enough to listen to a story, and always one old enough to get into an adventure and make a story of their own. I don't know what I'll do when they are all grown and serious. Hope for grandchildren, I suppose, or maybe just bore you and Alexander, and collect the stories that seem to stick to you both. If you suspect this is a sneaky request for another account of your travels, you are entirely right. ..._  

* * *

Eliza returns in the night. Maria stays up to wait for her.

It is difficult to study Eliza in the flickering lantern-light. Maria wonders whether she has tanned, whether she's obtained a new scar or new dimple. Whether her hair has changed texture in the sun.

Three of Eliza's children are asleep in the coach - the others will arrive later with Angelica. The coachman was sent away to stretch his legs.

"Did you enjoy your journey?" Maria asks, feeling husky and inappropriate, like speaking will wake the street.

"It was horrible," Eliza says giddily. "Don't _ever_ tell the children I said so - they tried to trick me into admitting I was bored, just so they could have an excuse to complain about how bored they were. I had to pretend to be fascinated by every tree we passed."

"I will take your secret to my grave," Maria says, and thinks, _this is easier for men._ Men can vow loyalty to each other, can call themselves knights or deputies, and even if it's a joke they will be heard and understood. "I missed you," she says, and then, quickly, "I missed work. I can't wait to open all those letters you've gotten."

"I missed you too," Eliza says, and it sounds so easy. "The letters I missed less." She shakes Maria's hand, and doesn't let go.

"I didn't wake your husband." It is a question, of sorts.

"I'm glad! I'll go in and wake him - is he asleep at his desk?"

"Yes."

"He can bring the children inside. And I have to talk to him." Maria nods. "But you are the one I need to ask first." Eliza laughs, and it sounds nervous and strange. "I’ve been talking about love with my sister, and I had a thought. A sudden one."

"Oh?" Maria focuses on the warmth of Eliza's palm on her own. She feels blood rushing to her face, feels her heart follow the beats of the flickering lantern.

Eliza lifts Maria's hand up for to her lips. "Will you stay here tonight?"

Maria can pretend to misunderstand. She can even say no - her work will still be waiting for her tomorrow.

"I don't know," Maria says. "Do you need me?"

"I do," Eliza sighs, and Maria steps a little bit closer to her. "I do, I do."

* * *

Eliza loves Maria's hands. There is a small burn at the base of her thumb - apparently, Maria has always been very bad at making tea, and this was a big problem in her mother's house. There are callouses, from sewing, on her fingers. Her customary ink stains are missing, but now that Eliza is back, there will soon be ink everywhere again.

"I love seeing this dress," Eliza says, idly, happiness making her babble, and she runs her fingers down from Maria's wrist to her elbow, then up to her bare shoulder. "You wore it when we met."

"It brought me luck," Maria agrees, "but I can afford a new dress now - or two. Do you want to come with me to the dressmaker's?"

"Of course."

From a practical standpoint, Eliza wants to go and learn more about her taste. Eliza's got a good eye and can help with haggling if necessary, even if the shop Maria will choose is going to be different from the shops that dress the Schuyler sisters.

From a lover's standpoint, Eliza wants to go and watch her stand still and tall and proud, with her hair down. She wants to see new silks against her skin.

Those beautiful hands are around Eliza's waist now. She regrets not having been faster with undressing herself.

"Your skin is so warm," Maria whispers, and leans in. Her hair is everywhere, and Eliza breathes it in.

Then Maria pushes her on the bed, and Eliza lets herself be pushed. She loves the traces of roughness that Maria shows sometimes - loves being the one laid down and held down, with care but no hesitation.

She waits for a moment, and Maria's mouth is on hers. Eliza will never run out of things to learn about Maria, but she will start here, archiving each kiss. She feels scorched and soothed. She holds Maria's fingers, and caresses her wrists. She kisses Maria's throat and then beneath it. She can only vaguely imagine the shape of the things they will do next. But they have time to make those discoveries - tonight, or another night. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering what Alexander used to write on himself during their walks, it was one of these:  
> http://www.forteachersonly.com/images/productimages/zoom/7872N.gif  
> He got it from the store where Washington got his mic!
> 
> After author reveals, I'm planning to upload a prequel. It's centered around another ship (one involving Alexander) but it's set in the same universe - it explains why Eliza didn't leave on time! If that's something that might interest you, please check it out.
> 
> The title of this story is from one of my favourite songs: _Witch_ by Be Steadwell. You can listen to it here: https://bsteady.bandcamp.com/album/notes-acoustic-love-songs


End file.
